The literature written for children before the Second World War is full of British heroes doing splendid things all over the Empire. It is imbued with a deep sense of the superiority of the British. Compared to other nations, the British gentleman stands for clear virtues, more honest and gifted, kinder and braver. While it might seem to be absurdly chauvinistic and stereotypical, the idea of being British includes nationalism with a sense of duty.What has happened to it?

Nationalism is not part of the formalities of school although one might have thought so when, after a member of the Royal Family had opened a new wing at a primary school, one of the pupils said they enjoyed singing the National Curriculum.

There is no saluting the flag in assembly. What, then, do young children think of their country? What views do they acquire that would meet the desire of politicians for national loyalty and dedication? As part of a large survey of the formation of children’s attitudes to the world in which they live, six to nine-year-olds were asked to talk about where they lived and their attitudes to other countries. One of the purposes was to detect any idea of nationalism, if it was there, and to ask neutral questions in order to elicit uncontaminated evidence.

A number of findings consistently emerged, not just in terms of understanding but in terms of tone and feeling. That the children generally understood what a country was, whether defined in political, physical or linguistic terms, was clear, even if they found it difficult to elaborate. The distinctions between one country and another, especially in terms of wealth and style of living, were clearly drawn. They were therefore perfectly capable of understanding the concept of nationalism.

Despite this capacity, the idea of national identity as a kind of virtue or blessing, and one which demands a particular loyalty is completely missing. The children are uniformly pragmatic about their country. At the same time that they feel glad to be British, they concede that this is accidental, and they could have been happy to have been born somewhere else.

“For me this is the best place, but some people might say other things. I expect it’s because I’ve been here a long time and I’ve just got used to this place and I just like it, because I’ve got a lot of friends here and that. Some people living in other countries might think ‘oh, that doesn’t look like a nice place to live’. But when you’ve been here quite a long time it’s quite a nice place to live” (Girl, 8).

This sense of pragmatism and the relative value of one country against another can go both ways. It can suggest that there are either worse places to live - they commonly mention Africa - or better ones. But it appears that they are used to learning about other places, especially in the images presented on television. Their sense of security of place can be strengthened by comparison.

“There’s lots of other things that people don’t do in Britain that people do in other countries. I think that I do like England quite a lot just because it’s England” (Girl, 7).

But that is the nearest glimpse, if it is one, of national feeling. Usually, some other countries are invoked as places they would prefer to be.

“I was born in London, really. But I would like to live in America. It’s a healthy country. A free country. Hardly any bad thingsIwell, some bad things” (Boy, 7).

It is clear that other countries offer tourist attractions, like Disney World. But they are also often assumed to be “better” not just in terms of the weather but in terms of culture. Being “British” is no longer automatically best. This lack of automatic belief in the virtues of their own country stems from the insecurity many of them feel in their immediate neighbourhoods. They accept that where they live is where their friends and family are; but does that make it the best of all worlds? Far from it.

“It’s all right, but it’s a bit rough” (Boy, 8).

“No, I dunno. You get all these kids beating you up everyday. No, no. I want to move” (Girl, 9).

Even if the sense of relative values spills into the negative it is still possible to feel “my country, right or wrong”. After all it is where they happen to be.

“I think it’s good being English. ‘Cos that’s the country I come from” (Boy, 7).

George Orwell, writing about a visit from a Moscow football team just after the war, remarked that international events were more likely to lead to prejudice and dislike rather than to foster understanding. To that extent the nationalism of the football crowd can be particularly unappealing. But not even such value-free nationalism can be detected in these children’s views of themselves in terms of their country. They are aware of the relative values of each country, and the natural egocentricity of view held by anyone, wherever they come from. Some might see this as a sign of a new form of sophistication; others might deplore the lack of optimistic self and social belief.

Children are not, of course, born with nationalistic tendencies. These need to be carefully nurtured by others. On the face of it, those who want to witness great surges of national pride, flag-waving, of a deep-seated sense of being blessed by being British, have a lot of catching up to do. But they would be glad to know that of Europe as a concept there is barely a mention.

Cedric Cullingford is professor of education at the University of Huddersfield. His latest book is The Effective Teacher.